I just finished reading a book last night (no, no, I’m not proud). Not sure what the name of it was – or who it was written by. It’s one of many Kindle freebies I’ve read. In fact, in the year or so I’ve had the thing, I haven’t paid for a book yet – and I’ve read some pretty good ones that I’d not have been exposed to otherwise. So I think it’s paid for itself by now. Anyhow, this book takes place in and around London, and at one point, one character is wondering what’s real and what isn’t and the other is telling him he really shouldn’t start thinking that way or he’ll go nuts, because everything’s a matter of perception (or something).

All that we see or seem.

She says. And the other character says,

Shakespeare.

To which she responds,

He knew what he was talking about.

And I thought to myself, “hey, that’s Poe, you limey bastard, not Shakespeare.”

Now, perhaps old Willie wrote something similar that I don’t know about, but I have to believe she was referring to Poe’s poem, “A Dream Within A Dream.”

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I happen to be familiar with this because I’ve always liked Poe (I have the same cheerful outlook on life that comes across in much of Poe’s works – I think he was a great source of inspiration to ‘Katrina and the Waves’), and have always felt that, if I lived in a age when I could spike my alcohol with opium, I’d have wound up like Poe. Not that I’d have created great literary works. Heavens no. But that I’d most likely have died penniless and alone.

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

I bet he was a lot of fun at parties.

So this really ruined the rest of the book for me. OK, not really. I mean, whattya want for nothing? But it did irritate me a bit.

Anyhow, I don’t know if this latest terrorist wannabe could have done a lot of damage with his model plane idea (I suppose it’s only a matter of time before somebody manages to get hold of some weapons-grade anthrax or something and flies one into a Farmer’s Market), but one thing is clear. If you’re looking for something to buy me for Christmas, look no more. I want one of these things. Get me the one with the camera, please.

I dunno about you, but for me, this has been the longest week in recent memory. Im tired, and I’m glad it’s finally over. Well, over except for getting through today. The weekend weather is supposed to suck, but I don’t care. I have beer (sadly, no opium). And one of the kids (who aren’t really kids anymore – except in comparison to old people like me) will be in town for a work-related event. Yes, she could have gotten stuck being sent some crap hole like, oh, Paris or London or Rome, but, lucky for her, she gets to come to Syracuse. Sweet deal for her, and nice for the dogs, as they like it when we have company.

Now I just need to sleepwalk through the rest of this day.